


Holes In Our Souls

by allofuswithwings



Series: Confessions [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Basically just slash this time, M/M, Multi, Romance, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2012-12-03
Packaged: 2017-11-20 03:49:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/580995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofuswithwings/pseuds/allofuswithwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur confronts Merlin about his melancholy of late.  Merlin wishes Arthur would just leave it be and let them get on with pretending everything is fine.  The warlock is taken by surprise when Arthur instead decides it’s time for a little honesty about how they feel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holes In Our Souls

**Author's Note:**

> Set just after S05E05 ‘The Disir’, though no actual spoilers for the episode. Just takes in the general mood and condition of the characters. Sequel to [They Won’t Know You Now](http://archiveofourown.org/works/558363). It ended up being more angsty than I’d planned. Unbetaed.
> 
> Cross-posted to my LJ.

~

 

It was late, but Merlin had only just started cleaning and polishing Arthur’s armour.

 

The day had been long and tiring due to extensive patrols on the northern border.  Morgana had sent out a handful of warriors to ransack villages and burn down woodland.  It wasn’t anything particularly threatening; more of a nuisance than anything else.  Which Merlin guessed was probably the point.  She had taken to keeping them busy while she no doubt worked on some master plan.

 

So they’d arrived back in the evening, and Merlin was too weary to do much more than the essential tasks for the King.  He’d drawn a bath, set out fresh clothes, retrieved his supper, and now settled down near the newly-stoked fire to prepare Arthur’s armour for the next day.

 

Merlin’s hands ached a little as he rubbed at the cool metal, but he knew the sooner he was done, the sooner he could collapse back into his own bed.

 

“So I see we’ve got nobles from Mercia coming tomorrow,” Arthur remarked.

 

He was sitting at his table, finishing up the last pieces of food on his plate and sifting through papers.  Merlin didn’t look up as he spoke, just concentrated on the work at hand.

 

“Yes, my Lord.”

 

There was a long pause and he thought he could feel Arthur’s eyes on him, though he was too distracted to bother checking.

 

“I might make you wear your ceremonial robes again.  It’s been a while since we’ve seen them.  I especially like the hat.”

 

There was a tease to his voice but it washed over Merlin, who only nodded and turned the armour over to start on the other side.

 

He thought he heard a sigh come from Arthur, and then there was the sound of his chair scraping on the floor.

 

“Honestly, Merlin, are planning on being a misery every waking hour from now on?  If you keep this up, your face is going to permanently resemble a slapped arse.”

 

Merlin paused, looking up at the King now, but didn’t smile as Arthur did.  Arthur seemed to be waiting for a response, so he shrugged and stood from the bench, armour hanging from his hand.

 

“I’m sorry that my behaviour is bothering you.  I’ll finish these back in my chambers and return them in the morning.”

 

He bent down to gather his things to leave, but Arthur was out of his chair and across the room before he even made it to the door.

 

“ _Merlin_.”

 

The entreaty in his voice made the warlock stop, and he turned his head to see Arthur standing only a few feet away with his hands out, exasperation written across his features.

 

Merlin watched him for a few moments, his brow furrowed, unsure what to do.

 

“What?”

 

Arthur sighed again, closing the few steps between them.  He studied Merlin for a few moments.

 

“What’s the matter with you?” Arthur asked.

 

His tone was still demanding but edged in softness now.  Merlin felt a faint warmth seep into his chest at the look on Arthur’s face.  It wasn’t often he saw the King genuinely concerned, and though it was still veiled in formality, Merlin could read the emotion that passed over him.

 

Still, he didn’t feel he could do much more than sweep it aside, as he always did.

 

“Nothing,” he replied.  “I’m fine.”

 

He turned to go again but this time Arthur caught him by the arm.  Merlin looked up to see Arthur watching him intently, a slight furrow in his brow.

 

“You’re not fine.  Even I can see that.”

 

Arthur seemed to be imploring him to explain, though he’d never really done so before.  The King had often reprimanded him if his foul moods or backchat were impressed too closely on Arthur, but Merlin didn’t remember it leading to serious enquiry.  Arthur wasn’t fond enough of him for that.

 

“It’s nothing, really,” Merlin replied, noting Arthur’s fingers still wrapped around his forearm.  “I should get your armour done and head to bed.”

 

He was a little startled when Arthur snatched the armour from his hands and dumped it onto a nearby chest.  He was even more so when the King grabbed him by the shoulders and looked him in the face, his jaw set in determination.

 

“No,” Arthur said firmly.  “You’re going to stay here and explain to me what they hell is going on with you.”

 

Merlin blinked at him for a few moments, trying to work out what had brought this on, and what to do about it.  He was growing quite exhausted from the long day, and didn’t really think it was a good idea to be discussing anything too important with Arthur, not when his emotions felt like they were teetering on a knife edge.

 

“I’m just tired,” Merlin said.  “I need some rest, that’s all.  I’ll be better in the morning.”

 

Arthur dropped his arms, and his eyes narrowed a little before widening again.  Merlin had seen that look a lot recently.  He wasn’t exactly sure what it meant, though he got the uneasy feeling that it was Arthur trying to piece things together in his head and unravel the mystery that was his manservant.  Merlin didn’t like it.

 

“But you won’t be.  You never are, not anymore.”

 

He paused, and Merlin was about to protest again, but Arthur continued before he got the chance.

 

“You don’t smile, you barely joke, and even your insolence has diminished to the point where you could actually pass for a normal servant,” Arthur told him.  “I would conclude that you’ve had your heart broken or somebody has died, except that as the months have gone on you’ve gotten _worse_ , not better.  So don’t try and tell me you’re fine, because I’ve seen with my own eyes that you’re _not_.”

 

Merlin stood silently for some time after Arthur finished, his mind reeling with the candid and unexpectedly perceptive nature of his words.  He would’ve thought Arthur dismissive of his surly and morose attitude of late, and not actually interested in the reasons behind it.  Merlin wondered now if he should’ve been more reticent when the burden of it all had started to affect him.

 

“Well, even if I wasn’t fine, it’s not exactly something you should be concerned about,” Merlin said, rubbing at his eye with long fingers.  “Not when you have the future of Camelot to worry about.  I’m not that important.”

 

“Yes, you are.”

 

Merlin’s head snapped up.  From the look on Arthur’s face, he’d also surprised himself with the outburst.

 

The King shifted, his gaze breaking away and he pressed his lips together for a moment.  He cleared his throat and then looked back up at Merlin.

 

“I know how I treat you.  And I know how I seem a lot of the time.  But there’s more to this than I say, that I _mean_ to say–”

 

He stopped, clearly struggling with his words.  Merlin watched him draw his eyebrows together and purse his lips.

 

“I feel concern, over you,” Arthur finished.

 

Merlin’s face pulled into a slow frown, his head tilting slightly to one side.

 

“You’re making fun of me.”

 

Arthur scowled.

 

“I’m not.”

 

“You are.  Of course you are.”

 

Merlin jumped as Arthur grabbed him by the arm, probably more roughly than he intended.  Arthur’s eyes were searching, frustrated.

 

“No.  I’m not,” he insisted.  “There’s something going on with you, inside that head of yours that you don’t speak of.  I can see it every day behind your eyes, in your voice; something clearly terrible that’s weighing you down and tearing you to pieces.  Yet you suffer in silence and refuse to even acknowledge its existence.  So I am, in fact, concerned, loathe as you are to believe it.”

 

Merlin’s eyes had widened by this stage, and he suddenly had a horrible feeling that he’d severely underestimated Arthur’s awareness of things that went on around him.  However, it was quickly followed by an involuntary rush of gratification at the thought of Arthur worrying about him.  It presented itself as a flash of heat in Merlin’s cheeks, only to be compounded by the unguarded emotion he now saw lurking in the depths of Arthur’s eyes.

 

Merlin finally managed to find his voice.

 

“I don’t want you to be concerned,” he said quietly, trying to shake off Arthur’s grip.  It didn’t work.

 

“Well I am.”

 

“Don’t be.”

 

“It doesn’t work like that, Merlin,” Arthur said, annoyance growing in his tone.  “I can’t just tell myself not to be concerned and it magically disappears.”

 

Merlin’s chest ached at the irony of Arthur’s words.

 

“I’m just a servant.”

 

“You’re not,” Arthur shot back.  “You should know that by now.”

 

Merlin hesitated for a moment.  It was hard, continuing to stop Arthur from seeing him as anything else.  But he’d done it for so long.  It was safer this way.

 

“I am.”

 

“You’re more than that.  Much more.”

 

Merlin swallowed hard, the fierceness of Arthur’s gaze and voice now truly starting to frighten him.  He stared at him and felt his chest tighten, body threatening to shake under Arthur’s hand.  He couldn’t break, not now, not after bearing it all for so long.

 

But Arthur too looked at the end of his tether, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he struggled to speak again.

 

“I don’t know how to say this properly, Merlin.  I just need you to understand.”

 

And that was when he saw it – the desperation in Arthur’s eyes that suggested there was far more to his words than mere concern.

 

Merlin suddenly felt his heart beating wildly in his chest, and he wondered how they’d gone from discussing his bad mood to perilous honesty in only a few minutes.

 

“Understand what?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.

 

Arthur let out a grunt of frustration and took him by the back of the neck.

 

“You _know_.  Surely you know.”

 

His eyes bored into Merlin’s, pulling their foreheads so close they almost touched.  Merlin felt his stomach roil at the look Arthur gave him but couldn’t allow himself to believe it meant what he thought.  He closed his eyes for a few moments, exhaling a shaky breath.  When he opened them again, his gaze was downcast.

 

“I’m never certain about anything anymore,” he said quietly.

 

Arthur’s hand shifted on his neck and the other came up to join it, holding his head and making him meet his gaze.  Merlin’s chest ached with the want for this to be true, for Arthur to be offering him what he’d unknowingly coveted for so long.

 

“Be certain about this, Merlin,” Arthur murmured.  “Even if it’s not the same for you, your feelings, I still want you to know mine.”

 

Arthur was swallowing, a nervousness about him that Merlin didn’t remember seeing before.  He felt Arthur’s fingers twitch on the back of his neck, and blood began to roar in the warlock’s ears.

 

“Do you understand?” the King prompted.

 

Slowly, with a fierce tremble, Merlin brought his hands up to Arthur’s face.  He touched one to his chin and the other at the side of his cheek.

 

“I think so,” Merlin muttered.

 

Something like relief passed over Arthur’s features, and he drew their foreheads together now.  His eyes fluttered shut as Merlin’s thumb slipped up over his chin to draw along his bottom lip.  Merlin’s heart hammered in his chest at the way Arthur’s mouth opened a little, as though in invitation, before his eyes opened again, heavy-lidded.  There was a fire in them that stoked the one that had begun in his own belly, and one of Arthur’s hands slipped down to settle in the small of his back.

 

Merlin wasn’t sure if it was he or Arthur who tipped their head, but then the King was nosing along his cheek, their lips grazing in one slow sweep.  The warlock felt his breathing hitch and the hand at Arthur’s chin dropped to his shirt, his fingers fisting in the fabric.  Arthur’s grip tightened on the back of his neck, and he leant into it instinctively, his mouth falling open.

 

He wanted this, had wanted it since the day they’d met, even though he’d never realised it.  His love for the King went beyond duty, into something bright and fierce and far more important.  Arthur truly was his other half, not because destiny said so, but because of the man he had been, and become.  Merlin loved Arthur, whether he was King or not.

 

And yet, Merlin was struck with a wave of guilt as he suddenly thought of Gwen.  He knew he wasn’t that person – the one who betrayed his friends, even for love.  And even for a love such as this.

 

He pulled back, his body stiffening and eyebrows drawing together.

 

“No, I can’t.  You’ve got Gwen.”

 

Merlin didn’t understand the expression of amusement that appeared on Arthur’s face.

 

“It’s fine, Merlin.”

 

The King went to kiss him again but Merlin jerked back, his hand pressed against Arthur’s chest to stop him.  He scowled at Arthur’s apparent callousness.

 

“It _isn’t_ fine.  I won’t do that to her.  And I won’t let _you_ do that to her either.”

 

Arthur still appeared unconcerned, and Merlin felt his anger flare at this man he thought he knew.  He could hardly believe Arthur would be so cold as to think being unfaithful to his queen was perfectly fine.  Perhaps a drunken fumble with a chambermaid could be forgiven, but this was something entirely different.  This was fuelled by love, not lust, and could not be easily dismissed.

 

“Merlin, Guinevere was the one that insisted I tell you.”

 

Merlin’s anger dissolved into confusion.  He didn’t fight Arthur’s touch as his hand stroked the back of Merlin’s neck in slow, soothing motions.

 

“What?”

 

“Gwen’s known how I feel about you for a very long time.  I’d say she knew of it even before _I_ did.  At least, before I admitted to myself what it was,” Arthur explained.  “She thought it was about time I let you know as well.”

 

Merlin gaped at him.  Surely it couldn’t be true what Arthur was saying.  Perhaps it was some ploy to make Merlin think what they were about to do what morally acceptable.  It didn’t make sense that Gwen would tell her own husband to declare his love for another man.

 

“Why would she do that?  What would she get out of you confessing your affections for someone else?” Merlin demanded to know.  “And why would she even marry you if she knew you felt this way?”

 

Arthur smirked, and Merlin prickled with annoyance.

 

“All very good questions,” Arthur replied.  “The only thing she told me was that I had a big heart and she didn’t mind sharing it with you; that I was going to love you anyway, and it’s better out in the open than living a lie.”

 

Merlin stopped, his heart suddenly stuck in his throat.  His eyes were wide as he stared at Arthur.

 

“You _love_ me?”

 

Arthur flushed.

 

“What I meant was–” he started.  “That is to say, I–”

 

“Arthur, _don’t_.”

 

He didn’t want to him to pretend – not about this.  He couldn’t bear it if Arthur took the words back.  Merlin’s gaze was searching.

 

Arthur’s expression remained conflicted for a few moments more, and then he smiled begrudgingly.

 

“I suppose it _is_ that, yes.”

 

Merlin closed his eyes and exhaled.  He could still feel his heart scrambling to climb out of his throat, and it took a few moments before he felt capable of speaking.

 

“You love me,” he repeated.

 

Arthur’s gaze dropped and his hands shifted upon Merlin, body fidgeting.

 

“Yes, alright.  You don’t need to keep saying it.”

 

But a giddy smile split upon Merlin’s face and he cupped Arthur’s cheek with his hand.  He was breathless, his chest instead filled with a warmth that threatened to take over his whole body.  It had been many months since he’d felt joy like this that it even hurt a little.

 

“But you _love_ me, Arthur.”

 

“ _Mer_ li–”

 

But Arthur didn’t get to finish his reprimand, because Merlin closed the gap between their mouths to crush his lips against Arthur’s, his hand going into the King’s hair.  Arthur was only tense for a moment before he relaxed into it, his hands at Merlin’s neck and back pulling the warlock closer.

 

When they broke apart Arthur looked dazed, and Merlin could feel his warm, rapid breaths against his face.  The King’s hooded eyes searched his own, and Merlin was confused by the worry he saw there until Arthur spoke.

 

“And you?  You’d better not tell me now that this is only some game you are playing.”

 

It had probably been intended to sound like a threat, but there was no mistaking the fear that laced Arthur’s words.  Merlin knew it was difficult enough for Arthur to verbalise his feelings, let alone to face the prospect that they may not be returned – not after being kissed like that.

 

Merlin threw him a soft smile.

 

“You know, you really _are_ a dollophead sometimes.”

 

Arthur’s expression was thunderous.

 

“Merlin, I _swear_ I’m going to –”

 

“Of _course_ I feel the same.  I love you, Arthur.  I love you more than I know I should, more than someone has the right to love _anyone_.  Even though you’re a man, and loving you is against the laws of Camelot.  Let _alone_ that you’re the King and I would likely get flogged, or possibly _worse_ , if anyone ever found out.  Despite all of it, I can’t help but love you.  I couldn’t stop even if I tried.”

 

Arthur was stuck mute for a few moments, and Merlin wondered if perhaps he’d come on a little strong.  Arthur had admitted his love, it was true, but he wasn’t exactly known for his emotional maturity, and Merlin’s confession could prove too much for him.

 

But all doubts were swept away when Arthur yanked him close again and claimed his mouth in a fierce kiss.  His tongue was insistent as it slipped past Merlin’s lips, and the warlock groaned and gave in, his finger’s tangling in Arthur’s golden locks.  He kissed him back with equal fervour, Arthur’s mouth a wonder to explore and his tongue a relentless force against his own.

 

Merlin revelled in the way Arthur’s hand gripped the back of his neck, a firm presence that suggested he had no intention of letting his servant escape now that he had him.  This was confirmed when Arthur wrapped his other arm around Merlin’s waist and pulled him in to bring their bodies flush.

 

The love and want that enveloped Merlin at the feel of Arthur against him like this, all heat and desire and affection, was almost overwhelming.  He hadn’t expected to need this, or be given it, and certainly not from a man he’d first thought incapable of thinking of anyone but himself.  It was as baffling as it was glorious.

 

And for the first time in many years, all the worries about destiny, Camelot and Arthur’s fate left his head.

 

Merlin almost wept with relief.

 

*


End file.
